I wouldn’t trade this for anything, Jonny gestured to his surroundings. I think I’ll stay here until I discharge.
Tamir didn’t say a thing. He knew that the search for Nissenbaum’s replacement was going on full speed. Nissenbaum told Tamir that there were candidates with much more experience than him, including officers who had performed several roles in the unit already. Still, he said, I could mention you to the department head. I have a good feeling about you. The question is, are you interested?
Tamir was aware that the position entailed more relaxed, research-oriented work, relocating to Tel-Aviv, and going home at the end of the day. He told Nissenbaum that he was interested. Nissenbaum must have said something to Harel, who started giving Tamir the cold shoulder. He told him that it doesn’t reflect well on him that he’s only just arrived and already wants to leave. He should strive to excel and progress where he is. Progress where? Tamir asked. You could hang around here for another year or so and then go to officer training like I did and come back as an IAO, Harel said in his nasal voice, which sounded a bit whiny now. When he uttered the words officer training and IAO, his shoulders pulled back and his chest swelled. He said that it’s silly that now, when it looks like Tamir is finally getting a handle on things here, he should go somewhere else. It doesn’t serve the system in any way, he said. His cheeks puffed out when he said the word system, and his perpetually red face glowed with an air of self-importance.
Jonny left and Ophira emerged from the reception room, holding a summary in her hand. Tamir smiled a somewhat forced smile at her. She asked him if he enjoyed his leave.
It was fine…
You don’t sound excited.
I’m never excited.
Really? Never??
Well, except maybe…
Except what?
You know.
Oh… it seemed like her eyes were dimming. He couldn’t decide whether something was flickering there, in the dark. She placed the summary on his desk. I don’t think it’s anything interesting, she said, and turned on her heels. He tried not to swallow her up with his gaze as one gulps down a cold beer on a hot summer’s day. He failed. She disappeared, and he picked up the summary. A routine report from the Democratic Front’s network about a meeting between the Palestinian factions (nicknamed ‘the resistance factions’) in the Bourj el-Barajneh refugee camp in Beirut. Tamir yawned. He knew that he should get up to speed about the previous week’s intelligence activity and that he had plenty of reading to do, but before he got started, he went to fix himself a cup of coffee in the kitchenette by the translators. When he got back to his seat, he saw that Ophira had placed another summary on his desk. He picked it up.
From: A/U BB
To: I/S al-Mazra‘a
(E/C)
The rest of the message was a sequence of numbers. Tamir passed the encrypted code to Department 453 at headquarters and mentioned in his annotation that the encrypted content was sent from the airborne unit to the Front/Jibril internal security unit. He knew the unit was contacted whenever there was fear of an information leak or an infiltration to the organization’s ranks by a foreign agent. He also knew that organizations like Front/Jibril were highly paranoid, and were prone to suspect the presence of subversive actors amid their ranks. All that was left to do now was wait for the e/c to be deciphered. Palestinian encrypted codes were relatively easily-decipherable, so he knew it shouldn’t take long. He turned his mind back to the previous week’s activity, and started catching up.
The red phone rang. It was someone from Department 453 at headquarters.
We deciphered the e/c you sent, he said. I’d pass it on as usual, but this looks different. Are you writing?
Writing.
The man dictated in Arabic with a thick Ashkenazi accent, and Tamir wrote down what he said. The more he wrote, the more his breath grew shorter.
Seems pretty important, doesn’t it? the man said.
Yeah.
It looks like black material, doesn’t it?
Tamir muttered something, thanked him, and hung up the phone. He stared at the text resting before him. It was perfectly clear, but he still decided to go over to Mika, to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Mika translated briskly and efficiently, and placed the translation before him:
From: A/U BB
To: I/S al-Mazra‘a, Damascus
Suspicion the pretty bird is a spy. Have the Yellow see if the other side sent her. Top priority.
Jihad.
Who’s Jihad? Mika asked.
Ahmed Jibril’s son, commander of their airborne unit.
The ones who just carried out that attack?
Yes.
It was quite impressive, wasn’t it?
Yes.
And who’s the pretty bird?
I… don’t know.
We already had a bird with them a while ago, didn’t we?
Yes.
al-Darija, Mika recalled. The stint.
There’s nothing to suggest it’s the same case, Tamir dodged.
But it’s a possibility, isn’t it? Mika insisted.
I need to make a call, Tamir said and hurried away from Mika’s station. He took a couple of steps before stopping in his tracks and turning back.
Mika…
Yes?
Don’t talk to anyone about this. It looks like black material.
Okay, she said in a solemn voice.
Black material was material that indicated a connection between its content and factors on the Israeli side. There was a special procedure for handling that kind of material. As soon as it became clear a communication qualified as black material, the intelligence analyst was to transfer it in special sealed envelopes to particular recipients whom Tamir knew were either Shin-Beit factors or mediators to the Shin-Beit. He was strictly forbidden to involve any other factor in the process. Tamir considered the matter for a moment, and decided to call Nissenbaum first, even though it would constitute a breach of protocol. He used the amethyst to call Department 195. To his relief, Nissenbaum was there. Tamir relayed the content of the message.
Do you think this pretty bird is…?
The same one from the Northern Command report? Tamir said, partly asking, partly asserting.
Not necessarily, Nissenbaum said. It could be
